


Stay

by Katzedecimal



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fear of Death, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 12:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19853221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: Aziraphale cracks Agnes Nutter's last prophesy, now he and Crowley must discuss what to do.  But the stakes are very, very high, almost as high as their emotions.





	Stay

“Stay the night?”

Crowley’s voice had been so quiet, Aziraphale hadn’t been sure he’d heard him, at first. Stay the night, at the demon’s flat. His side definitely wouldn’t like that. His side was definitely out to punish him, just for stopping the war. Literally nothing left to lose and they really did need to talk it out. So he nodded and took Crowley’s hand. 

The flat was glossy and modern and looked like a magazine spread. It had that un-lived-in look. It was impeccably clean, apart from-

“Mind the holy water,” Crowley said, hopping over the pile of wet clothes and melted plastic just past the threshold.

Aziraphale stared at it, “What in the world…?”

“Yeah, that was Ligur. He kind of melted like that scene from _Raiders of the Lost Ark,_ only more horrible,” Crowley shuddered, then shrugged, “I’m leaving him there as a warning to anyone else who wants to try anything funny.”

“Meanwhile you have to hop into your flat like an idiot, not to mention risking your life if you happen to land on a stray drop,” Aziraphale retorted.

Crowley shrugged and nodded, “Fair point, yeah. Cup of tea? Whiskey?”

“Whiskey, I think,” Aziraphale said, looking around the flat as he walked through its rooms. There was no dust anywhere at all, not even on the light fixtures. He caught sight of a statue and arched an eyebrow at Crowley, “Bit of wishful thinking?”

Crowley saw it and actually blushed. He pursed his lips and spread his hands, trying to look innocent and failing, “Ah, well… struggle of good and evil… Evil’s winning…”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow was having none of it. “I’m not _that_ naive, Crowley.” He took the offered whiskey and added, “And I think the word you want is ‘topping.’” Worth it just to see Crowley turn purple. He didn’t think the demon _could_ blush! He looked around again and caught sight of the two statues guarding the door of Crowley’s bedroom and raised his eyebrows again.

“Aren’t they great?!” Crowley beamed, embarrassment overridden, “They’re replicas of the ones from St. Paul’s Cathedral in Liege, _L’Ange du Mal_ and _La Genie du Mal._ ”

“They’re Lucifer.”

“Yup!”

Aziraphale’s expression screamed _You have hot statues of **your boss** guarding your **bedroom**?_ and Crowley broke up laughing. “That. That right there,” Crowley giggled, “That expression. That’s perfect.”

“You have enough visitors to troll them with statues?”

“Not at all, but when I do, they get so incredibly awkward, they don’t know where to look! It’s just hilarious.”

Aziraphale smirked then tipped his head, “Well, he certainly has let himself go.”

Crowley laughed and took a sip of his whiskey, gesturing for Aziraphale to make himself at home. The poor angel looked so out of place on the boxy, ultra-modern sofa. He flopped into his chair and took another sip. Then he glanced at Aziraphale, “I hope you’re interpreting this right.”

“’Playing with fire’ _could_ be a metaphor. After all, we’ve just inconvenienced the armies of both Heaven and Hell. But the fact that her previous predictions were rather literal makes me think not. There was nothing metaphoric about my cocoa growing cold. It was, in fact, my cocoa and it was, in fact, growing cold.”

“And since we pissed off both the Hosts, it’s most likely to be Hellfire,” Crowley mused, scratching under his chin. 

“On both sides, I should imagine,” Aziraphale sighed. 

Crowley pursed his lips. “Hmm. No. Probably be holy water for me.” He tipped his head towards the mess by the door, “Hastur witnessed that. He’ll want like for like. Besides, he knows I can survive infernal fire. Mind you, I was in my car at the time.”

“They threw you into a lake of molten sulfur,” Aziraphale said quietly, “I can’t say I’m looking forward to that.” 

Crowley sipped whiskey in silence. “I’d do anything to keep them from doing that to you,” he whispered, “I’d swap places with you to keep you from going through that.”

“But that’d mean **you’d** go through it twice.”

Crowley shrugged, “This time I’d be prepared.”

Aziraphale took a large sip of whiskey, looking troubled. “Probably not. It’s a lot of effort to get enough sulphur together. My lot’s gotten lazy over the aeons.” Crowley chuckled. _”Choose your faces wisely.”_ Aziraphale’s eyes slammed open and he looked up, “That’s it! Crowley, you’re a genius!”

Crowley shrugged with a ‘well yeah obviously’ expression, “What’d I do this time?”

“You said you’d swap places with me! That’s it - We swap places!”

“What, you mean like… swap bodies? Appearances?”

“Yes!”

“That’s a lot of effort, Angel.”

“We have a lot at stake.”

Crowley couldn’t argue that point. “What does holy water do to angels?”

“Mostly, it makes us wet.”

“Alright,” Crowley nodded, “That sounds good.”

“You’re certain it will be holy water?”

“Positive,” Crowley nodded again, “Hastur nearly discorporated when I drove through the Hellfire but I was fine. Well… a bit singed around the edges. Mostly fine.”

Aziraphale paused, “That’s a bit scary.”

“Isn’t it though, been trying not to think about it too much.”

“Hm.”

Crowley refilled their glasses then reached for the remote and went to join Aziraphale on the sofa. He studied the angel for a moment before carefully looping his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and flipping on the telly. 

“What’s this?”

“Old Tim Conway clips,” Crowley said, “Figured we could use a laugh.”

Aziraphale leaned into Crowley and sighed, “Here’s hoping it won’t be our last.”

* * * *

They had laughed until they cried and then somehow just the crying was left. It seemed not even Tim Conway’s legendary comedy could overcome their reality for long and they were both feeling a lot of powerful emotions they couldn’t name, let alone deal with. 

They were on Crowley’s bed, legs wrapped around each other’s waists, chest to chest, embracing. Neither was sure who was rocking whom. Aziraphale wiped his face, his cheek pressed to Crowley’s. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

Crowley nodded, “Me too. If you’re wrong about any of this…”

Aziraphale nodded, “What if it’s _not_ holy water?”

“Do me a favour and don’t go quietly. Take a few of them down with you. Take Hastur, especially Hastur, if no one else, take out Hastur too.”

Aziraphale had to smile. “If it all goes wrong… punch Gabriel for me.”

“I will die with my fangs buried in his throat,” Crowley promised.

“If you’re in my body, you won’t have fangs.”

“Watch me.”

Aziraphale hugged him a bit tighter. Then he pulled back to look into Crowley’s beautiful eyes - snake eyes, golden eyes, sunny and caring eyes - and whispered, “If this doesn’t go as planned, I think you should know that every second of time you spent with me was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“This is not over,” Crowley said fiercely, “I am **not** giving you up.”

“Nor I you,” Aziraphale nodded, “If it starts to go wrong, I will bless every blasted liquid I can find down there.”

“The ceilings leak, there’ll be lots.”

Aziraphale chuckled lightly, then fell quiet again for a few moments. “You’re certain it’ll be holy water?”

“Positive. You’re sure about the infernal fire?”

“A lake of sulphur is too impractical, you just can’t get the parts anymore.”

Crowley grinned. “Alright. I should go ‘round your bookstore.”

“Yes, I’m rather anxious about it, so it’ll be expected.”

“Alright. You ready for this?”

Aziraphale sighed, “As I’ll ever be, I suppose. You?”

“No. But I trust you,” Crowley said. He smiled at Aziraphale once more, then closed his golden eyes and rested his forehead against the angel’s. 

It felt _very_ strange.

Even stranger when he opened his eyes and saw his own golden snake eyes looking back and blinking rapidly. “Oh, oh that is different,” Aziraphale said with Crowley’s voice, “That’ll take some getting used to.”

“Yeah, you’re not kidding,” Crowley muttered, “Might need a few minutes.”

“You alright, my dear?”

“Just a bit dizzy,” Crowley said. He wriggled uncomfortably, “Gah, it’s like a furnace in here, how do you tolerate it?”

“You like it well enough when you’re a snake,” Aziraphale chuckled.

“That’s different,” Crowley smiled. He drew Aziraphale back into another deep embrace. “I don’t want to let go,” he whispered, “There’s no afterlife for us.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said slowly, “I suppose I just became a believer in reincarnation.”

Crowley couldn’t help it - the smile spread across his face and he looked up at Aziraphale-wearing-his-body fondly, “Oh, Angel…!”

Aziraphale looked mildly surprised and tipped his head curiously, “Oh… is that why…”

“Hmm?”

Aziraphile smiled with Crowley’s lips, “Oh, nothing.” He hugged Crowley again. “Well… I suppose now we’ll discover just how well we truly know one another.”

“I can think of better tests,” Crowley sighed, “Multiple choice?”

“Mm, I’d prefer essay questions.”

“Why, so you can write on and on about how wily I am?” Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale grinned back and squinched his nose, which looked unsettlingly cute on Crowley’s face, “Obviously!”

Crowley nerved himself and drew away. “Alright. Off to the shop, me. Don’t forget to water my plants.” 

“Right.”

They got off the bed and both walked out to the front door. Crowley looked doubtfully at the damp pile of clothes on the floor. “You’re sure about the holy water…?”

Aziraphale glanced down then deliberately trod on what was left of Ligur. “Yup!”

Crowley took his hand from his heart and gasped. “OH ffffffffffuck, Angel!” he laughed, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? It’ll be your body that suffers!”

“Put your mind at ease though, didn’t it,” Aziraphale grinned.

“Not _exactly_ at ease but you’ve made your point,” Crowley said. He hesitated at the door for several moments. 

“For luck?”

Crowley sighed and leaned in, “That’s a good excuse.”

Six thousand years of shared history, friendship, and love, culminated in a kiss that was worth fighting for.

“This _isn’t_ over,” Aziraphale whispered.

“No,” Crowley nodded, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


End file.
